Welcome to my home in blogland. Here, I strive to make you laugh like never before, cry warmhearted tears, get silly, and be naughty. Together, we'll uncover sweet morsels in the light and dark. You'll leave craving chocolate. That's a given. I'm a bad influence. Oy vey, am I a bad influence! {But I do recommend fair trade and organic varieties.} Please enjoy the samples, and may you fast become addicted. You're most welcome to return.

My Story, Yours Too.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

How Much Tonnage Makes for a Few Extra Pounds?

Since the double-chinner fiasco (see pre-BDFH Hell), I just have one large report for you, dear reader. It goes like this: a guy sent me an "I'm interested" message. This is usually not a big deal, but in this case, it's rather massive. See, the dude describes his body type as "a few extra pounds." We all know what that means. Right ladies?

I'm not trying to be mean. It just comes naturally. I do have a few extra pounds myself -- in my belly. And under each arm. And another few are doing just fine hanging out on each upper leg. Plus, I'm the first to admit I have issues. Oh, stop nodding your heads in agreement and scanning through your memory banks to recall the names of all those mental health disorders you learned about in Psych. class. I'm merely talking about my chocolate addiction!

Being a 40-something'er American (i.e., food-obsessed) woman, a few body parts started drooping 1/2 inch toward the earth's center at 12:01am the morning of my 40th birthday. These parts drop again 1/3 inch (this time, toward China) at 6 month intervals thereafter. Sorry to warn you younger gals out there, but it's best to emotionally prepare for the trauma. Guys, we all know that once you hit 30, the fat cells gravitate to (1) your gut and (2) your gut. Right? Let's keep it real and restrained by a belt fastened on the last notch. Please!

So this is all to say that I'm no more shallow than the next Beauty Pageant Winner. I'm also a very small person, and thus not interested in a man who defines himself on-line as having "a few extra pounds." A review of his pictures indicates that he has a rather broad, shall we say, definition of "a few."

And so I became horrified upon envisioning our dating life. I could see us taking a leisurely walk along the main drag of this neighborhood, passing your standard cafes, eateries, and gift shops. I would, however, be 3 yards ahead of him, wearing a big whistle around my neck and carrying a bullhorn. When we'd come close to any pedestrians, I'd whistle 3 times, then shout into the blowhorn: "Make way, everybody! Wide load coming through! Wide load coming through!" Women, children, and poodles would throw up their arms, screech, and flee the scene. It's just not a very romantic vision. You know?

So I've fat out, I mean flat out, decided to avoid the ones who claim to have a few extra pounds. That fat lie tips the scales for this gal.

You are so right about gravity! But mankind was given a sense of humor to compensate for the effects of gravity. Some of us have a lot to laugh about, but at least we have at least one foot firmly planted in reality about it, which is more than I can say for a lot of weight-challenged online daters!

Hey, Robyn. New blog is up already. Not really sure what to do on there in the meantime, but I'm really digging the layout. What do you think?

In relation to this post, I support you in your decision to stray away from those people who tell the truth but not the whole truth. It's just a personal preference - not fatism. Some people like meaty guys... and those meaty guys can go find women they don't have to lie to, right?

Again, I don't miss those days, when you're completely judged by the way you look. Stories like this and the negative comments that follow make me want to stay married forever. Just saying. It's hard being heavy in a skinny world.